The sun shining against my neighbor’s tree across the street mottles the trunk in gold light and leaf shadows. Around that trunk two small furry figures chase each other; round and round, nosing up the tree, nosing down, tails flicking. I wonder what the day’s plans are for these two squirrels? And at the end of the day when they climb into their nests and hide their noses between their paws, do they have a feeling of accomplishment? What do they eat at this time of year? The acorns and hickory nuts are not ripe yet. But I’m pretty sure that somewhere high in the oak tree they have some hungry babies that must be fed.
What about me? What are my plans for the day and when I crawl into bed tonight, will I feel that I’ve accomplished some goals? I couldn’t resist buying a few more herbs the other day and a couple of pepper plants. Now I’ve got to brave the mosquitoes and introduce them to their new home, my herb bed. And, the final chapters of Darcy and Flora’s third adventure are waiting to be brought to life on paper.
When my mother was my age, she greeted each day with enthusiasm and definite plans. Probably because of her upbringing on the farm, her favorite meal was breakfast and she never had to worry about gaining weight or trying to skip a meal so she began the day with good, hot home-cooked food. By the end of the day, her house would be shining (I don’t think dust ever dated take up residence on one of her tables) and her garden would be weeded. In between breakfast and supper, she would have time to cut out and sew up a dress and when she sat down to rest, she’d pick up an afghan she was crocheting or house shoes she was knitting. Before noon, she’d stopped everything to cook a meal for Dad who thought that dinner (not lunch) should be on the table at 12 sharp.
Mom believed that work was a blessing and she stayed healthy and able to out-work her daughter until a couple of years before her death. From her I learned that at the end of the day, it’s really nice to go to bed with a feeling of accomplishment. Instead of counting sheep, I like to count the things I’ve started or finished. Whether it’s washing dishes, planting a garden, or writing those crucial chapters in a book, doing things as well as I can is a way of saying Thank You to God. Thank you for the good health to move around, for chores to do, for a garden to weed, for a book to write. And thank You for another day in which to do them.
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